Mama said they make me nicer

Menu

Rainy Days and Monogrammed Hoods

The rain.
Y’all.
And we haven’t even gotten the worst of it here where I am.

I’m not complaining–when I have the luxury of staying at home and not being out in it, I can find my happy place in the midst of these rainy, dreary days. Cool temperatures? Even better. (SOOOO ready for hoodie weather.)

It would seem, I’m recently discovering, that we have outgrown umbrellas. My children aren’t as small and compact as they once were when we could “everybody grab my leg and let’s shuffle walk/waddle over to that building” and I would carry the umbrella just so enough that they wouldn’t get very wet at all.

Now though? That doesn’t work. All but one would have to bend over double to grab my leg.

We have a couple of those vinyl ponchos, but I swanee those things have a life of their own. I shove them into a ball, tucked under the back seat of my vehicle. IT NEVER FAILS that at least once every other day, one or the other of those ponchos has crawled out from under the seat and is threatening to expand so as to take over the entire back of my vehicle. Not okay.

I’m over it.

As it looks like this is going to be a wet year, I finally decided they all could use rain jackets. I finally found one that could be tucked into its own pouch–hey, portable AND it won’t become a sequel to Night of the Living Rain Poncho and take over my world? Good enough.

I took all three children to the store to pick out whatever color would make them happy. Children’s sizes weren’t in stock, so I told Cooter we’d see about finding him one another place. The girls each picked out their favorite. When we went to check out, the sales clerk asked about monogramming the jackets. I had already told both of my girls this was the only and last rain jacket I’d be buying them. It was going to last them FOREVER. When the “m” word was mentioned, Aub’s eyes lit up. She is about monogramming all the things. Everywhere. When our Princess realized what was being asked, she wholeheartedly was on board. It sounded grown up and her sister wanted it, so YES. A thousand times YES.

Okay then. I had an ulterior motive. Maybe if they were monogrammed these jackets would be less likely to be tossed in a lost and found bucket in any of the various places we find ourselves on a weekly basis.

The next question was did they want just the left chest monogram or one on the hood too.

Sigh. The struggle is real, y’all. And I’m not talking about the rain anymore.

I could see in my oldest’s reaction that this would make her happier than a sunny day in Georgia. See my aforementioned comment about monogramming all the things. Everywhere.

Our Princess listened to the question when it was her turn to decide thread color and the like. Her eyes became so bright and her whole countenance was filled with joy.

She even clapped her hands. “Oh, YES! Please! Then when Maemae and Cap look down from Heaven and see it on my hood, they will know it’s me.”

Well.

Ahem.

Bless her. Bless. Her.

If it had been anyone else, I would have called them on manipulation. But not this one. This was all her. Authentic. And precious.

So yes, as if you had to ask, she got her initials monogrammed on her hood too. And the first thing she did after we picked up her jacket was put the hood on and smile. She nodded, and said almost to herself, “Yes. Now they can see it’s me.”

Oh baby girl.

Tonight I’m thankful for the rain and the sun and the thin moments when I feel my parents close. I do not take it lightly that we are able to go and get rain gear just because, and I am thankful for it. I give thanks for the joys that three little letters can bring in all the bright colors and fonts. I’m also grateful that I was able to find Cooter a version of the rain jacket as well, sans monogramming. (He will eventually outgrow his, and y’all know how I feel about hand-me-downs.) Most of all, I give thanks that my children still feel so connected to my folks–who adored each and every one of their grandchildren. I am so happy that they continue to live on in our stories, laughter, and tears.